Hold Your Breath
by Battle On
Summary: Marked at birth, Harry Potter, has always been different. The older he gets the clearer the phrase appears and having the words caring is not an advantage etched on his arm doesn't exactly inspire confidence in those around him. Teased and bullied as a child Harry learns to hide his mark and tries to forget the cold word that will identify his future mate.
1. Part I: 1998-2005

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter or Sherlock (BBC) or any of the characters from either series represented in this piece. Any original character in this piece are mine.

**A/N**: Written for Soulmate/Soulbond challenge on Rough trade during NaNoWrimo 2014. Didn't quite make the word count, but enjoyed it all the same.

Beta'd by KissOfTheGrimm, all other mistakes found are mine.

* * *

><p>It was official, Harry Potter was a freak.<p>

He had been sitting in his cupboard, hands over his ears, trying to block out his cousin's taunts as Dudley ran up and down the stairs screaming to the heavens about his freakishness, when he had come to this conclusion. Dust had clouded his vision and occasionally caused him a fit of coughing. They had talked about soulmate marks in class today, a lecture required to be given in primary school before the end of Year 4. Tears were rolling down his cheeks as he remembered the Miss Beck's talk about when soulmate marks would appear. She had looked right at him and hadn't bothered to hid her disgust. What his Aunt and Uncle had been telling him all his life must be true then. Harry was part of a very small and most reviled group. There wasn't even pity in their eyes.

The other students had always treated him different, but Harry had thought it his cousin's influence. Now he knew differently, or suspected at least. The reason why he had never received a birthday party invite or stood a chance at making a friend. The reason why his Aunt and Uncle hated him and refused to let him play with Dudley ever in their time growing up together. They didn't want his freakishness to rub off. What would the neighbors say?

As the weeks had passed, Harry had grown less of a thick skin than he would have liked. The constant imposed counseling sessions that took place, at minimum once a month, during school only served as a reminder to him, and all around him, of his taint. The constant barrage by his counselor to remember not to talk to any adult that approached him, not to look any adult in the eye, and never ever show an adult his mark. It was for his own good, he didn't want a pedophile to take him did he? That's what his soulmate was, wasn't it? A man or woman twenty or more years his senior.

For all of a minute, Harry had thought that the weird school that had sent him letters would be his saving grace. He had dreamed of attending a school where no one knew his name. Where he could make friends, study hard, and learn, in this case, magic. That dream had been quickly shattered. Being Harry Potter was a nightmare all its own, but attending a magical boarding school and having to wear a uniform did come with one advantage. Harry was always the first to get ready in the mornings and the last at night. He had strategically chosen the bed closest to the door, after having traded with Neville that first night. He wasn't ashamed to say that it was one of the few times he had used his new found fame to his own advantage. Fame had never been nice to him, but it did help here and there. Harry was no longer famed for his mark and in the end he found he could more than live with that. That wasn't to say it had been easy, far from it. Harry was fairly convinced that Fate just enjoyed fucking with.

It had been hard witnessing Cedric's death, being forced to take part in Voldemort's resurrection, and knowing the traitor that had gotten his parent's killed got away. Being ignored by his friends that following summer and learning about his connection to Snake Face himself hadn't helped his spiraling mindset either, but the real tragedy had been losing Sirius. Harry had never really stopped blaming himself. Time and space would help him in the future, he was told, when the memory wasn't quite so raw. Then he might be able to accept that all the blame didn't fall on his shoulders. They had all made mistakes, but it wasn't much for consolation.

Harry had survived. Sometimes it seemed like a lie though, to say that in the end he had survived. He had defeated Voldemort and stopped a war, but to do so he had had to die himself. He had had to accept that this may have been his place all along. To die having lived a far harder life in his seventeen years than most did in their lifetime. To accept death having never known his soulmate and condemning them as well. When Harry had breathed that first breath after making his choice at Kings Cross he knew things were different now, he was different. He had never stopped hoping though, that his soulmate would come and take him away from all of this. From his muggle family and the magical world alike. Sometimes, on the days he was feeling brave, he'd even have a peek at it. There, on the inside of his upper left arm, sat the mark that should have been the greatest comfort and joy, proof his soulmate live. Instead sat the cruelest words a mark could take form as, _caring is not an advantage_.

* * *

><p>It hadn't taken much for Harry to be convinced to finish out his education at Hogwarts, he had wanted to be convinced. The alternative to spending a year finishing his schooling wasn't something Harry was ready to face yet; accepting the Auror position, bypassing training, and being thrust into adult life. The castle was in shambles in some places and had to be cordoned off for safety, but enough of the school still stood strong and the world kept spinning, life kept moving on, and so would Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.<p>

Hermione had agreed instantly to returning for her NEWTs, while Ron had taken some convincing, and Harry wasn't surprised when two months in Ron had dropped out to join George in his shop. Not everyone had returned; some had elected to attend other schools, others had been sent to Azkaban, and some just couldn't find it in themselves to return. This had been true for most years, not just Harry's. The daily grind of lessons and homework gave Harry new purpose. He didn't think he had ever appreciated his education more, because if the war had taught Harry one thing it was that he was woefully unprepared to be an adult in this world. Being the top of their class in Defense Against the Dark Arts had helped him, of course, but it didn't replace knowing basic healing spells, or being able to brew a lifesaving potion, or recognizing a lifesaving potion ingredient. Hermione had enthusiastically agreed to help him retry brewing some of the potions they had brewed in previous years, so he had been shocked when he learned that she would be dropping out as well after winter holidays.

That February Ron and Hermione had married in the Weasley's yard, snow covering the ground and dusting the trees. A picturesque wedding, perfect in every way; even with the announcement that Hermione was with child, that followed a week later.

* * *

><p>Harry graduated from Hogwarts in June, and it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. When the owl that carried the letter containing his NEWTs had arrived Harry hadn't even bothered to open it, they weren't the reason he had returned, he had wanted to expand his knowledge not prove he could just pass a test. The letter that had arrived the next day from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement concerning his acceptance into the Auror Academy had been opened and read, before being tossed aside. Harry was done chasing down dark wizards.<p>

Harry went to Gringotts to settle his affairs the morning of his nineteenth birthday. The goblins had contacted him the year before and Harry had asked for a hold to be placed on affairs, so that he might finish his education. Due to circumstances during the war, the goblins had been unable to properly contact him on his seventeenth birthday. They had agreed to bury the hatchet if Harry in turn paid his share of the damages to their bank. When he had entered the bank that morning and had accepted his Lordships and taken claim to his rightful vaults, Harry had inquired about his share of the damages, he wanted everything to be settled before he left. He hadn't expected his account manager Nirhold to inform him that his share had been waived, apparently Harry had been the only one to willingly agree and hold his commitment for his wrong doings to the Goblin Horde. Ron and Hermione hadn't agreed and wouldn't even when Harry broached the subject later that week. Harry had made allies in the goblins.

With his Lordships came two seats in the Wizengamot and Harry made it a priority to attend every gathering. In between his new duties and reading through most of the books in the library at Grimmauld Place, Harry honestly hadn't seen the rift between himself and the Weasley's coming. He had accepted that they had their differences, they were all adults now, and even his friendship with Ron and Hermione didn't require them to agree on everything. The baby boom, as Harry had taken to mentally calling the phenomenon, was not what he would have expected to be the cause of the rift.

* * *

><p>Christmas was a time of celebration and joy. Loss from the war only a year and a half before had surely put a damper on things still, but new life and new love seemed just the thing to raise people's spirits some. There seemed to be a wedding every month and a new announcement to add to the growing list soon followed. The Daily Prophet had monthly predictions on when Harry would be announcing his engagement, to whom he couldn't fathom. Hermione giving birth the month before had definitely raised the mood this holiday, even Harry could admit to being caught up by the cheer the baby brought. Baby Rose would be well loved and have a constant companion in her cousin, Victoire, Bill and Fleur's girl.<p>

So when Hermione had sat next to him after dinner and placed Rose in his arms, Harry wasn't prepared to be blindsided.

"When will you be asking Ginny out again, Harry? She admitted that she's grateful you've given the both of you time to finish your educations, but don't you want to marry soon? So our children can attend Hogwarts together?" Hermione asked, eyes never straying from Rose.

"Er…What? Ginny and I broke up, Hermione."

"For the war, though, right? To keep her safe. You told me that."

"Yeah, I mean that was my reasoning at the time. I'm not her soulmate though and we're both adults now. Shouldn't she be looking for him?"

"The wizarding world doesn't put the same stock into soulmates that muggles do Harry. Didn't you know?"

"That still doesn't mean I want to date Ginny, she's kind of like a sister to me Hermione."

Hermione glanced up at him, his words having somehow broken the spell that kept her eyes locked on her child. "Well, surely you must be interested in someone, of not Ginny. Don't you want to settle down Harry? I can understand not wanting to be an Auror, Ron and I agreed that what we went through during the war was more than enough. We wanted to start our lives together. It may have been a bit rushed, I'll admit, but I couldn't be happier. I want this for you as well."

"I'm glad you're doing what makes you happy Hermione, but this isn't for me. Not yet."

"I just don't understand it Harry. Don't you see that we still have a duty? Being an Auror was one option and this is another." Hermione lifted Rose from his arms, her face guarded.

"This? A Duty? Getting married is a duty for you and Ron? I thought he was your soulmate and you guys did this out of love."

"It's not that we don't love each other Harry! It's that our world didn't just become rainbows and sunshine after the war ended if you haven't noticed. People died Harry!"

"You think I don't know that? What's wrong with my wanting to take a break before jumping into something else? I haven't even met my soulmate Hermione and with all I've been through I should at least be allowed to look the bastard in the eye before I decide I'm going to turn my back on them!" Harry felt the eyes of the rest of the family on him.

"So you're just going to neglect your duty?" Ginny piped in. "You hold two Lordships Harry, don't you understand that you must produce heirs? If not for yourself, then us at least. You hold two seats, two votes. Two ancient lines will die with you Harry, if you don't do your duty. You may have been raised in the muggle world, so maybe it isn't important to you, but it is important to us."

"So, I'm just supposed to roll over; give up my life, get married, and have a few kids? Just so you all feel better? You really think after everything I've done that I don't think this world is important?" Harry said evenly. "I'm nineteen years old and I have my whole life ahead of me and I think, just for a bit, I'm going to live it the way I want to.

"I've seen what they write in the Prophet. Public opinion sways back and forth every week it seems when it comes to me. I learned a long time ago that I was never going to make everyone happy, but shouldn't I at least have the chance to make myself happy?"

"I've seen your mark Harry, why can't you just learn to make yourself happy here?" Hermione stood and walked over to her husband.

Harry looked at each of the Weasleys, most giving him pitying looks. Harry was grateful at least that George wasn't here to look at him the same.

* * *

><p>Harry returned to Grimmauld Place and preceded to destroy one of the many guest bedrooms. Later, he would remember that it was the room that Ron and Hermione had most often used during their stays. Harry vented every emotion he could with his magic. Setting the curtains ablaze and shredding the pillows and mattress. By the end, all Harry could feel was the tears on his cheeks.<p>

As he fell to his knees Harry wondered where it had all gone wrong. What had he done in another life, or even this one, to deserve this? The longer he cried the more he realized that staying wasn't the answer. Harry knew he had a right to want to strike out on his own and it wasn't too much to ask. Ron, Hermione, and everyone else, it seemed felt as if he owed them. As if they owned him.

So, Harry just needed to remove himself from the equation.

* * *

><p>If Harry were a normal person, having a nightmare wouldn't be a thing to be celebrated; but Harry wasn't normal, hadn't been from the start and having a nightmare wasn't the worst thing to happen to him inside his own head. The lack of sleep had bothered him at first, but like so many other things, he just got used to it. So waking up from a nightmare for the third night in a row didn't bother Harry as much as it would most people. Living on the streets didn't make Harry like most people though. The sun, high in the sky, filtered down into the cracks and crevasses of Harry's cramped corner of the world. There wasn't much a person could say about the rundown abandon building Harry was currently calling home, but Harry and his fellow homeless squatters found it more than adequate.<p>

Life among the dregs of London had worked out better for Harry than he had first imagined. Leaving the Grimmauld Place in the dead of the night a week after the incident at the Burrow had been the most liberated Harry had ever felt. Harry had arranged a system with the Goblins for access to his vaults and had gone over the legalese with a solicitor to guarantee the rest of his property and status was protected until the time came that he decided to return. If he did decide to return.

He had tried renting a small run down flat for a few months, using it as his base of operations, but he hadn't been able to earn the other's trust. Having a place with little in and out traffic as he did caused him to have suspicious neighbors. Although, Harry couldn't understand why they had any right to be suspicious given their own chosen trades. Harry had gone out one day, his bag on his back and simply never returned; an undetectable extension charm like Hermione had used during the war making his bag far more useful.

An older woman who introduced herself as Willow and reminded him a bit of Luna, had taken a liking to Harry and had been more than happy to share her spot with him. Harry had healed the cuts on her feet and legs in exchange for her generosity. She gazed at him knowingly and had patted his shoulder. The next day she brought a friend home with her and Harry had done what he could to help. With Willow's help he was making progress in earning the other's trust; before long he was being dragged off for "house calls" and getting visitors every day. Harry didn't know what Willow was telling them to get them to keep their silence, none of them ever spoke a word about how he did it. When they showed up they just knew that he was there to help. He never asked for anything in return, but most tried to leave something with him.

As the days started to grow warmer Harry made his first trip back into the Diagon Alley. He donned a worn, but clean, muggle blouse and knee length skirt that Willow had brought home for him last week. Harry had cast a spell on his hair to lengthen and straighten it, while Willow had insisted on combing his hair out and Harry hadn't the heart to say no. An old cloak completed the ensemble. Hood raised, Harry gave Willow a peck on the cheek and disaparated to the Leaky Cauldron.

* * *

><p>Harry spent every New Years in the same spot, the spot where he had watched the fireworks from when the millennium came rolling in, just days after making his grand escape. The cramped alley behind one of the smaller churches in the city provided a clear view of the sky.<p>

Harry had made a name for himself over the years and while being homeless in London wasn't easy, it did provide Harry with a simple life. Willow spent most of her time in shelters these days. She'd taken him in five years ago, now, and Harry was thankful every day for her kindness. There was very little Harry hadn't shared with her about his life from before, some of which he could never come right out and say.

The one subject they were most open with each other was soulmates and the marks they leave on each other. Willow's mark had appeared not long after her fortieth birthday and had faded before her forty-first. She had been a teacher at the time and had managed to finish out the school year before taking a leave of absence; she hadn't returned. Willow had explained how she had been disowned by her family when he mark hadn't appeared by her twenty-fifth birthday. She'd never really considered marrying someone or having kids, part of her blamed the system and their backward logic, and she never really felt like she had had that option. Being different was something to be ashamed of. She never told Harry how she had become homeless, but Harry had never minded, it didn't matter. Willow was a good person and that was all that mattered.

In between making salves, checking in on people, and catching up with Willow, Harry had found a peace he hadn't had before. A peace that was disturbed by a new whisper that swept its way through the homeless. The others spoke of a man with a sharp tongue and no nonsense attitude. A man by the name of Holmes.

* * *

><p>Harry had held his tongue when the other first started talking about Mister Holmes during their visits. Much like Harry, the man appeared to be trying to win them over and was fumbling a bit. He talked of Scotland Yard, murder, and drugs, offering them repayment for the odd work he had them do. Deliver a note here, follow someone there, and report back. His personal address and mobiles had even been distributed to a few. Harry could see the cleverness in Mister Holmes' plan, nobody paid much attention to the homeless. Normal people tended to avert their eyes, but Harry did not like the thought of anyone potentially putting themselves into harm's way for this man.<p>

Harry was going to pay Mister Holmes a visit.

* * *

><p>The apartment building reminded Harry of his own from years ago. Foreboding, dingy, cold, and of questionable management. Harry walked up the stairs and cringed at a particularly loud creak followed by a dip in the board that did not bode well. He quickly ascended the rest of the steps and located the correct door before knocking.<p>

The door flew open, startling Harry a bit, and an unshaven man with sharp cheekbones peered at Harry. "You didn't use the knock."

"Er, excuse me?"

"The knock, you're not a client and clearly live on the streets, so you should have used the knock."

"My apologies then. May I please come in, Mister Holmes?"

"Did my brother send you?"

"Does he 'clearly live on the streets' as well?"

The man grinned and pulled Harry inside, slamming the door behind him. "Mycroft didn't send you then. How can I help you Mister…"

"Black."

"Mister Black, then."

"Just Black."

* * *

><p>Sherlock's mind was amazing and horrifying all wrapped up into one man, but Harry could see the good in Sherlock and the two men came to an agreement. Harry would assist Sherlock in building his 'Homeless Network' and in return Sherlock would send the more dangerous jobs Harry's way. Harry told Sherlock as he turned to leave, that Sherlock should find a better place to live if he didn't want to chance a relapse and had been told to not so kindly fuck off.<p>

* * *

><p>"Not everyone wants to be helped dear." Willow had tutted and patted his cheek obligingly.<p>

"I know that Willow."

"Hmmm. Did I ever tell you about the cemetery, dear? No? Well, I was out walking the one day, after I had left teaching you know, and I felt inexplicably drawn to a cemetery nearby. I wasn't quite sober, but thankfully there wasn't anyone around to see my stumble my way over to this cemetery. I wandered off, mentally and physically, I'm afraid. Until I realized I had stopped. There was a lamp post not far off and I thought perhaps I had been heading towards it." Willow sighed from her seat next to him. "When I started towards it though, it didn't feel right, so I turned back around. I was in front of one of the graves, looked newer, well kept. What disturbed me most was that the date of birth and death were damn near identical. When I tried to walk away again, I didn't feel the same urge to go back."

"Who was it?"

"Oh their name isn't important Harry. What's important is that if you want to help people, you help those who want help. Not the other way around, that just causes more pain and frustration in the end."

* * *

><p>Harry was used to walking in, out, and around the alleys of London. He knew which areas to walk through and which ones to actively avoid on the days he didn't intentionally go out looking for trouble. Of course, he never really went looking for trouble did he? Trouble always came to him.<p>

As Harry passed through another dark alley on his way home, he passed a familiar church. The one he spent his New Year's celebration near. The normal sounds of the city at night comforting him as he made his trek. Until one sound stood out, rising able the others as a whisper. A faint and pitiful, mew. Harry turned and sought out the source on instinct, before stopping himself and continuing on as he had.

_Mew_.

Harry's heart constricted. Turning back again, Harry walked in the direction he thought he had heard the crying come from. He spied a box against the back wall of the church and caught sight of a slight rustle. As he approached the box Harry could just make out the small furred creature that lay inside. The kitten raised its head at the sound of Harry's footsteps, crying more insistently. Harry kneeled down and rested his hand on the small quavering body, the kitten pressing back against his hand.

"Hey there little one." Harry whispered as he lifted the kitten from its box and brought it towards his chest. The kitten mewed in response and settled down after the initial bit of squirming from being lifted. "I guess you're coming home with me."

The kitten purred the entire walk home.

* * *

><p>It soon became apparent to Harry that Bishop wasn't an ordinary kitten. Harry had found the little beast almost three weeks ago and after doing what he could to ensure the kitten's health and figuring out a feeding regimen, Bishop had grown. Not in a way that Harry thought was normal either, not for a normal kitten anyway. Bishop was nearly three times the size he had been when Harry had brought him home. Obviously, Bishop wasn't a normal kitten and Harry was starting to suspect magical influence. A kneazle maybe? Were there any other magical breeds of cats? How many magical breeds of animals ended up in the muggle world?<p>

Harry glanced down at the purring mass currently sprawled across his lap, and sighed. Bishop's long kitten down fur had only continued to grow and Harry had been wary over keeping Bishop's coat maintained, but a nightly brushing seemed to do the job, way better than Harry suspected it should. Bishop was too large to be carried around in Harry's jacket anymore and had taken to following him wherever he went. Sherlock hadn't reached out to him recently so he hadn't had to worry about Bishop on that front, yet. Harry was just hoping he could convince the animal stay home or with Willow should the need arise. On his next trip to Gringotts, he was going to have to risk a trip into a bookstore and see what he could find on familiars and magical cat breeds and crossbreeds.

* * *

><p>Harry shuddered from the cold seeping through his body as he sat on the ground, eyes to the sky, and watched the fireworks bring in yet another year. Bishop had squeezed himself between Harry's neck and the wall, acting as an impromptu scarf, content to sleep while Harry watched. The long held tradition of watching fireworks from this spot held true, until Harry heard the distinct clicking of heels.<p>

Harry snapped his head in the direction of the gently falling clicks and clacks to see a women walking in his direction. Harry rubbed Bishop's head as he started to stand, giving the cat time to readjust himself over Harry's shoulders. The woman stopped a few feet from Harry, face lit by the mobile she held in front of her.

"Mister Black?" The women asked only glancing up momentarily from her mobile.

"Who's asking?"

"Mister Holmes would like to meet with you."

"Mister Holmes employs a secretary now?"

"If you'll follow me." The woman turned and walked back out the alley.

Harry weighed his options and sighed before deciding to follow the woman out of the alley and into the waiting car.

* * *

><p>The woman never spoke a word during the car ride as they wove in and out of London's streets, their destination an old warehouse by the Thames. Bishop still sat perched upon Harry's shoulders, but when Harry turned to pet him, Harry could see Bhim eyeing the cars upholstery. Bishop jumped down into the empty space between Harry and the woman eyeing her as he began to knead the seat with his claws. The woman's brow twitched. As the car slowed and came to a stop, the woman exited from one side of the car, Harry and Bishop the other.<p>

"Mister Holmes will meet you inside." The woman stated before getting back in the car.

Harry looked at the warehouse and then back at the car, but before he could try to get back in as well, the car started to drive away. Harry figured he might as well see what Mister Holmes wanted then.

As they entered the warehouse Harry could spot a man standing in the center of the nearly empty building. Dressed in a three piece suit that screamed money the man stood at least six foot, with an umbrella in his right hand to lean on.

"So glad you could join me, Mister Black."

"Just Black, thanks." Harry insisted as Bishop gave a hearty cry as he came around Harry to sit in front of his feet. "That's Bishop."

"Indeed. Well Black, _Bishop_." Mister Holmes uttered with a strained lilt to his voice upon saying Bishop's name. "What can you tell me of your relationship with Sherlock?"

"Ah." Harry smiled indulgently. "You must be Mycroft then, who clearly doesn't live on the streets."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

"Your brother is a very suspicious man, your name came up in a conversation once."

"Your relationship with him?"

"Sherlock and I have an agreement of sorts, that's all."

"An agreement that deals with your kind?" Mycroft looked down at a file he held in his hands. "Mister Potter? I only ask out of concern you see."


	2. Part II: 2006

**A/N:** So I am posting this a bit later than I had planned, but here it is. I have gone in to the first chapter and adjusted the chapter title, to help better reflect the timeline in the story.

The chapter is not beta edited, just revised by yours truly, so any and all mistakes are mine. Enjoy~

* * *

><p>Harry started at his name and Bishop sneezed, in what he thought sounded like derision, while Mycroft stood there looking quite pleased with himself.<p>

"You have quite an interesting file there, Mycroft."

"_Quite_, Mister Potter. My question?"

"Sherlock isn't involved with wizards if that's what you're asking."

"Your agreement then?"

"Sherlock starting coming to the homeless for help, small jobs that take advantage of people not paying attention." Harry rubbed his eye, his hand pausing for but a second to push up the glasses that no longer sat on his nose. "When I went to see him about it we agreed that any of the more dangerous tasks would come to me. I'm trying to keep these people healthy and safe, to the best of my ability anyway. So if there's nothing else Mister Holmes."

"Just another small matter." Mycroft flipped through the file. "I would be interested in discussing your employment."

"I'm not employed."

"Yes, I can see that. I'm afraid you've misunderstand. I would like to employ you." Mycroft stated blandly. "For your, unique, skill set."

"Skill set..."

"Yes, all your documentation will be taken care of and your services will be well compensated for. All with approval from the Crown, of course."

"You asked the Queen to get me a job?"

"A problem?"

"No, but I don't need the money."

"Excellent. Cynthia will deliver all the necessary paperwork tomorrow, if you'd be so kind as to sign it, and your official documents with be delivered by the end of the week."

"I won't have to kill anybody will I? Tends to be frowned about where I'm from."

"Tends to be frowned upon in most places, Mister Potter. Good day." Mycroft smirked and turned towards the exit, umbrella swinging at his side with each step.

"Did you hear me? I'm not looking to be paid!" Harry yelled at Mycroft's retreating form.

* * *

><p>Harry had been making his rounds and was heading towards the shelter Willow was staying in tonight when he wandered to close to the main street. A voice stood out from the others quite clearly. Someone was calling for Potter. Harry resisted the urge to turn around and quickened his pace in hopes that he could get back off the main drag and into the shadows. Maybe he was just over reacting, but better safe than sorry.<p>

"Harry! Harry Potter!"

Harry eyed the alley only a few feet away and slipped through a crowd of muggles hoping to confuse his follower. About halfway down the alley a hand fell on his shoulder and Harry reacted. In a few quick moves Harry had the person pressed against an alley wall, and really wished he hadn't just started training Bishop to stay at home.

"Whoa, easy. Didn't mean to startle you, honest. Thought you couldn't hear me was all. Blimey it really is you Harry." The man rambled with a nervous lilt in his voice.

Harry studied the man closely, easing his grip and backing down the alley a bit to put space between them. "You are?"

"Don't you remember Harry, Hufflepuff, dueling club. My name is Justin…"

"Finch-Fletchley." Harry interrupted. "You didn't come back after the war."

"No, no I didn't. Left with that whole muggle-born registration shit going on. Convinced my parents I needed to catch up on my muggle education, was better than telling them the truth. Mother had been so pleased to have a wizard in the family." Justin looked back out towards the street. "Didn't have the heart to tell her with all that was going on I might not be much of a wizard soon enough.

"When word had reached me that You-Know-Who had been defeated, well going back never really crossed my mind. If they could put people like me through that once, we both know they'd try it again. Went to America for a couple of years, bit more progressive there. Was able to fulfill my education requirements so when I came back no one could question me over my wand. "Heard you'd disappeared. Never expected to run in to you out here of all places."

Harry's mobile started to buzz in his pocket, Mycroft had probably been watching, the bastard.

"Sorry, Justin. A moment." Harry turned to the side and reached in his pocket to pull out the phone. "Yes?"

"Are you in need of assistance Mister Potter?" Not-Cynthia's voice filtered through the phone.

"Not at the moment, thank you for inquiring. Good-bye."

"Mister Potter." Not-Cynthia quipped before Harry could hang up. "Mister Holmes would like to be assured of your safety."

"Oh, just put the bastard on already." Harry could hear a minute shuffle.

"Good afternoon, Harry. All is well I hope?"

"You've been watching me."

"Surely you don't believe this is a new arrangement."

"Everything's fine." Harry sighed. "Except, maybe, for the headache I can feel coming on. Good day, My."

Harry snapped the phone shut.

"Boyfriend?" Justin asked with a grin.

"Possibly soon to be ex-boyfriend." Harry replied with a grin.

"Well, I've got to get going, and again sorry about grabbing you like that."

"Don't worry about, though I wouldn't recommend trying it again. Yeah?"

"Deal." Justin held out his hand.

Harry shook Justin's hand and watched Justin walk back out into the street, disappearing among the masses.

* * *

><p>The hairs on Harry's neck raised, it was the third time this week it had happened and he was starting to think he was being stalked. He just hoped it wasn't someone Mycroft had hired, if so the person needed to be fired as soon as possible. The game of cat and mouse needed to end, and Harry was done being the mouse.<p>

He emerged from an alley and walked casually through a crowded street, easily slipping through the throngs of people. Harry could feel someone getting closer. He gripped the mobile Mycroft had sent him in his right hand, contemplating his exit strategy. Harry flips the phone open and sent a short one word text, counted to thirty, turned down another alley and disaparated.

* * *

><p>"Bishop?" Mycroft inquires, eyebrow raised.<p>

"Figured you would figure it out." Harry states taking in Mycroft's office.

"My understanding was that you needed to visit or see a place before you can apparate there."

"Always been a bit of a rule breaker." Harry shrugged and came to stand in front of Mycroft's desk.

Mycroft rubbed his eyes.

"Headache?"

"Constantly."

"Having me followed?"

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, but did not look up from the documents in front of him. "Watched."

"Good, I was worried your standards had dropped."

Mycroft looked up, but Harry was already gone.

* * *

><p>Harry could feel the approaching storm and it made his skin itch. If only he could he could predict the weather as well as he could predict fate abandoning him. Well, to be fair, he probably relied on magic a bit too much when it came to the weather.<p>

Harry stood in the warehouse Mycroft had had him brought, he hoped Mycroft didn't mind him borrowing it. His stalker had become more persistent and Harry hadn't wanted whatever was coming disturbing the place he called home.

"Mrow."

"You were supposed to stay home. Do I dare ask how you got all the way out here?" Harry asked the cat exasperatedly.

Bishop was about a year old now, by Harry's best guess and weighed about three kilograms. Harry hadn't been able to purchase a book on magical breeds of cats, but he guessed that the magical breeding was what helped keep Bishop's coat untangled and clean. The cat was able to hunt and provide most of the food he ate with Harry just supplementing his diet.

Bishop walked over and began weaving himself in and out between Harry's legs, purring quite loudly. Harry picked the cat up on his next pass in front of him and brought Bishop up to eye level.

"It's dangerous to be here right now."

Bishop laid a paw on his nose and Harry chuckled at his familiar's antics. "You going to run and get help if this goes badly?"

Bishop hissed and twisted out of Harry's grip, launching himself towards to the ground. He landed with a soft thud and he twitched his tail agitatedly.

"Should I leave my phone out for you then?"

Bishop eyed Harry distastefully and began to pace in front of him.

Harry squatted down. "My sarcasm isn't appreciated I see. Just promise me you'll keep safe. Don't want anything to happen to you, my little beast."

Bishop chirruped excitedly.

Two loud cracks of apparation startled the peace.

* * *

><p>Ron and Hermione looked much the same as they had six years ago. Hermione stood across the warehouse with a large grin and a look of relief on her face. She was dressed in a more traditional Wizarding wardrobe, the hood of her cloak lifted and haloing her long hair. Ron had a scowl on his face and wore a traditional Weasley jumper and slacks. He gripped Hermione's hand tightly when she started towards Harry and Harry thought he could see a bump under Hermione's clothes. The cold glare she turned on her husband amused him greatly.<p>

Harry stood and allowed the two to scrutinize his appearance. He had shaved this morning and dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans, adding his light jacket on top of his shirt, half zipped. His trainers had seen better days, but were still functional and there wasn't anyone to impress in his day to day life so it worked for him. Bishop never complained.

The cat, as if hearing Harry's musings, twitched an ear in his direction.

"Harry!" Hermione called, dragging Ron behind her as she came closer. "It's been too long. Look at you, you could do with a few of Molly's meals."

Ron pulled Hermione to a stop a few feet away, not giving under the glare she gave him this time.

"Hello Hermione," Harry acknowledged. "Ron. It's been a while."

"Oh, Ronald. Stop being ridiculous." Hermione raised their hands. "Unhand me this instant, I want to give Harry a hug."

"He could be dangerous Hermione, we don't know what he has been doing all these years." Ron whined before whispering loudly in Hermione's direction. "We don't know how stable he is."

"No more dangerous or unstable than I am going to be if you don't release my hand right this moment Ronald Bilius Weasley."

Ron dropped Hermione's hand like it had burned him, and watching Hermione's ire rise, it may have. Hermione gave her husband one last glance before rushing the last few feet between Harry and herself and throwing her arms around him. "I've missed you so much Harry."

Hermione's hug brought back a nostalgia Harry he wasn't quite comfortable with. "Hey there, Hermione." Harry's eyes lifted to see Ron still glaring and turning an interesting shade of red.

Hermione pulled back to get a better look at Harry. "Having you been eating well enough Harry? You look a bit pale and thin."

"I eat well enough, Hermione. You're looking radiant though. A brother or sister for Rose?"

Hermione laughed brightly and released him, hands going down to her distended stomach. "A boy this time we hope. Rose already has two younger sisters to terrorize. Emmaline who is four, Elizabeth who just turned two, and Rose turns six next month. Rosie, Emmie, and Lizzy." Hermione had taken out a picture and pointed to each other girls.

"That's amazing Hermione, really. You and Ron make beautiful children."

"Mmm. This is going to be our last, though. Four little terrorists will be enough." Hermione giggled and Harry smiled at her.

"Unless, it's another girl." Ron added.

"We aren't trying for a boy Ronald." Hermione snapped.

Harry transfigured a couple of chairs from some of the scraps of metal in one of the corners of the warehouse. "Here, Hermione sit down."

"Mrow."

Harry watched as Bishop jumped into the seat Harry was going to sit in leaving Harry having to pick Bishop up and settled him on his lap.

"This is Bishop, by the way. My familiar…I think."

Hermione reached out and ran a hand down Bishop's back. "He's gorgeous Harry. Where'd you get him?"

"Rescued him last December. Found him in a box behind a church."

Ron reluctantly sat in the last open seat after moving the chair closer to Hermione and reclaiming her hand.

"Do you know what breed he is?" Hermione inquired, patting Ron's clasped hand.

"No, I keep meaning to get a book, but the opportunity hasn't arisen yet."

"So what are you doing with yourself now Harry?"

"I work with the homeless. Knowing a little muggle first aid can go a long way."

"That's wonderful, Harry."

"You know, he'd be more amazing if Harry would invite us back to his place, instead of making you sit in this dingy building." Ron quipped.

"Ron!" Hermione snapped back.

Harry looked Ron in the eyes and pointedly replied. "You bring up and interesting point Ron, seeing as how I don't live here and yet here you two are."

"Really, Ronald. I don't know why I let you come with me. We were having a perfectly decent conversation and you had to go and bring that up."

"As if Harry doesn't already know Hermione. He's been spotted all over London, surely he lives near here." Ron grumbled. "Probably still even gets the Prophet."

"So, Harry wanted to meet on neutral ground, with the attitude you've brought, Ron, I can't say I'm surprised."

"As amusing as all this is, just what in the hell are you two talking about?" Harry interrupted.

"The column on the Prophet Harry, that was created after the story was run on you. No one had seen or heard from you in six years, so when the story came out well…" Hermione trailed off.

"People started stalking me?"

"Well, not stalking you I'm sure, but, maybe…keeping an eye out?" Hermione tried to reason. "Some people likened it to when you were a kid."

Bishop began to purr, lightly kneading into Harry's leg.

"People stalked me when I was a kid?"

Hermione looked unsure and said. "Stalking is such a dirty word, Harry."

"A dirty word for a dirty act I suppose. I can't recall the exact definition of stalking, but constantly following someone around and watching them from a distance when it isn't appreciated I think falls somewhere in there."

"I told you he would be unreasonable Hermione, never could appreciate what he had."

Harry opened his mouth and then decided against speaking. Ron had always been like this and Harry didn't know why he though adulthood would change Ron any.

Hermione looked at Harry and then Ron and sighed, rubbing her stomach. "So, where are you living Harry? Did you decide to attend muggle university?"

"Your stalkers didn't figure it out?" Harry asked coldly. "Can't say I am surprised, though. If they watched me as a kid and couldn't put two and two together about the Dursley's, why expect any different now?"

"Well, some did note they could never spot you coming or going from any one particular house or flat." Hermione whispered.

"Well then, let me let you in on the little secret your spies missed." Harry hissed. "I live on the streets Hermione and I think I'd like to know more about this article in the Prophet."

"The streets, Harry? You're homeless?!"

Ron chuckled darkly while his wife just looked scandalized.

"The article?"

"Oh, um." Hermione adjusted her dress while trying to compose herself. "It was done anonymously, about two weeks ago. Someone went to the prophet and said they had seen you on the street in London. Mentioned you were using a mobile and had a job of some sort. Thought you might be living in London. The column started two days later when all the confirmed sightings started coming in."

Harry abruptly stood, knocking Bishop off his lap. "That damn Hufflepuff."

"Who was it?"

"So you can tell the Prophet?"

"Harry! We are your friends. You don't think we'd actually do something like that?" Hermione studied the look he leveled at her. "Do you?"

"You used the Prophet to track me down didn't you?"

"We were worried! You just disappeared!"

"You only wanted me around to be some sort of stud for your goddamn blood line games!"

Ron stood from his seat. "Oi! Don't talk to my wife like that. She deserves more respect than that mate."

"And I don't deserve yours?!"

Ron pulled his wand down from inside his left sleeve and gripped it tightly.

Hermione looked startled by the action. "Ronald, put your wand away this instant!"

"He isn't to be trusted Hermione. I'm not risking you or the baby. Just because his soulmate doesn't want him, doesn't mean I'm risking mine. You've seen the papers and publishing's. People like him are dangerous." Ron stated with a sense of finality in his voice.

Harry stood perfectly still and focused on Hermione, keeping his eyes away from the wand pointed at him.

"I don't know where our paths diverged Hermione," Harry started, keeping his voice and breathing even. "but that night you and the rest of the Weasley's put the world right back on my shoulders. I'd only just gotten it off.

"I spent, from the time I entered the Wizarding World until the time I left it, my life fighting an evil no one person should be burdened with. I faced things in school that full grown adults would and did struggle with. I should have died a number of times, during the school year, on school grounds. I, blindly, accepted all of this. I didn't have anyone to point out the wrong in all of this. I wish that maybe Sirius could have, but the effects of Azkaban left their toll on his mind and body, and while none of the adults fought for his rights, I couldn't.

"Then I actually died, Hermione. I walked into that forest and died. I'm not saying it was a cake walk for you or anyone else during those years, but I can't understand why you would insist putting me into a situation where I'm left without choices once again. Where there is only one path left to me to walk. You said you wanted me to be happy Hermione. That night. I think you meant you only _wanted_ me to be happy on your terms though. On everyone else's terms, but my own." Harry finished, throat constricted and eyes feeling a bit wet.

Hermione dabbed at her own eyes and started to cry. "This is what makes you happy, though, Harry? Being homeless? Living away from us? We love you so much Harry."

"I think that, in your own way, you do love me Hermione, but I find that a bit hard to believe from your husband there. You found what you want to do in life, the thing that makes you most happy." Harry looked down at his hands. "I'm still trying to figure it out, but I've found something to keep me occupied in the meantime. Living on the streets isn't all that bad Hermione, not easy, but not bad. Plus, I take on a few…odd jobs, now and again."

"Mrow." Bishop rubbed up against Harry's legs.

"There's Bishop too." Harry chuckled and took out his mobile, sending out a one word text. "Come on boy, I think it's time to leave."

Bishop jumped up into Harry's arms. "It was good to see you again Hermione. Give your girls a kiss for me. Maybe, the next time we meet will be under better circumstances."

Harry turned and disapparated.

* * *

><p>Mycroft didn't lift his head when Harry arrived this time. Bishop jumped down from his arms and began inspecting the new room.<p>

"Meeting didn't go well?" Mycroft asked, shuffling a few papers and looking up at Harry then down at the floor, eyes zeroing in on Bishop. "Why is that filthy beast in my office?"

"Bishop is hardly filthy or a beast."

Mycroft looked wary. "Yvonne told me what he did in the car."

"Not-Cynthia is a tattle tale and Bishop didn't ruin anything in your car, and he most definitely isn't going to ruin anything here. He's my familiar, Mycroft, and of some sort of magical breed, I doubt you'll even find any cat hair when we leave."

Bishop proceeded to prove Harry wrong by spraying the plant by Mycroft's door. Harry put his head in his hands and sighed. Mycroft just watched the scene unfold, face blank.

"Also, for your information, no, the meeting didn't go well. Sort of hoping you'd have a job for me actually."

"Did you have anything in particular in mind?"

"How about something with a beach, would be nice to get away for a while."

Mycroft smirked. "What are your thoughts on Peru?"

* * *

><p>Five days later, Harry found himself sitting in first class on a plane to Peru. Mycroft had put together a file detailing Harry's assignment. The gist of it being, an up and coming politician in Peru had his plays in government lined up and under his carefully crafted control. His daughter, not so much. At sixteen years old, Maria, was constantly running away and undermining her parent's, perceived, authority. This had made her an easy target and six days ago she had been kidnapped. A single ransom note sent to her parents that had gone along the lines of have the cash ready and overturn the progress of a bill in ten days, or else. The locals were making no progress, corruption in the inner working of the law enforcement was suspected.<p>

Harry was being sent to locate the girl and scout the area where she was being kept. He would then report back to Mycroft who, working in conjunction with local authorities, would send a team in for retrieval. Harry had zoned out a bit during the briefing, so he didn't know or remember how or why Mycroft's work fit into all this, but upon completion of the job Harry was getting fourteen days in paradise, all expenses paid.

As Harry walked out of the airport and into the humid Peruvian air his mobile began to ring. "Mycroft?"

"Your animal had cried incessantly at the door to my study for the last twenty hours."

"How did you know…You know what never mind. You could try petting him, you know." Harry chuckled. "Wait, are you hiding from him on your study?"

"I am trying to work." Mycroft quipped.

"For twenty hours? You did feed him right?"

"Vivian has been put in charge of seeing to his…needs."

"Like petting him? I don't think Not-Cynthia likes him very much." Harry can hear the sounds of shuffle and the click of a door. "Mycroft? Put me on speaker."

"Mrow! Mroooooow!"

"Hey Bishop, are you giving Mycroft a hard time?"

Harry could hear Bishop jump up on the desk and begin to purr. "Sorry I had to leave you buddy, but you're going to have to cut Mycroft some slack. I'm going to talk to Mycroft now, but you be good and I'll be home in two weeks."

"You don't seriously believe her can understand you."

"What's he doing right now?" Harry asked as he arranged for a cab.

"He is sprawled across my desk, purring."

"Well pick him up and head to bed, big day tomorrow. Talk to you then." Harry stated snapping the phone shut.

Before a cab could arrive, a sleek black car pulled up in front of Harry and the driver stepped out. "Mister Black?"

* * *

><p>A sheen of sweat dotted Harry's brow as he approached the dilapidated building, a few point me spells and a little instinct had led Harry here. He eyed the building and grimaced at the sinking feeling in his stomach. Something wasn't right. Harry apparated to the roof and wandlessly opened the rooftop door. The inside of the building was luxurious, he noted, as he glanced around from the rooftop entry. Harry cautiously backed out of the building and walked about the edges, spotting a sun roof that looked down into one of the rooms.<p>

The girl, Maria, was standing in front of a board, writing in what appeared to be Spanish. She turned to talk to the other person in the room and Harry caught sight of her eyes. Harry slipped into her mind to get a handle on the situation.

"Shit." He muttered, pulling out his mobile. "We've got a situation."

"Is she dead?"

"Worse, she's not a hostage."

"Explain."

"She's in what looks to be the war room and she isn't alone, there's a man with her. I can't read what the writing says, but I can read her surface thoughts. She's helping them, whoever this group is, take down her father. It's why her parents were given so much time for the deadline."

"She isn't being coerced."

"The man is her age, son of someone in this group. He loves her, but he didn't force her here. This looks to have been her idea from the start. I'd say she is manipulating them, not the other way around."

"Proceed to the extraction point. A car will be waiting to take you to your resort."

Harry bit his tongue, wanting to ask questions that weren't in his job description to ask. "Understood."

* * *

><p>Harry saw that his mobile was buzzing as he exited the shower. Walking around the bed he answered it. "Yes, Mycroft?"<p>

"You owe me another plant."

Harry sighed, dropped the towel from around his waist and laid back on the bed. "You are petting him and feeding him right? Letting him sleep with you? How hard could it possibly be to take care my cat?"

"_He_ is not normal."

"I'm not normal, but we manage to get on. Seriously, stop foisting him off on Not-Cynthia and spend a little time with him, maybe then you won't keep losing plants." Harry could hear Mycroft readjust the phone. "Shouldn't you be in bed."

"I am in bed."

"Imagine that, I am too."

* * *

><p>"Seriously, Mycroft, what could my cat have possibly done now?" Harry asked, popping the last bit of his bagel into his mouth.<p>

"Do you always talk with your mouth full?"

"That's for me to know and you to, er, wait…" Harry back peddled.

Mycroft ignored Harry's slip. "I was calling to inquire as to whether or not your package arrived."

"Oh, yea, the rain coats. Thanks actually. I was planning on going out tomorrow, but with all this rain, well, being out around muggles makes water repellent charms impossible to use. So thanks."

"You are welcome, Harry."

"I picked up some books today, they had a larger selection of English novels than I expected, isn't exactly how I expected to spend my beach paradise vacation, but getting away is getting away. How are things on your end?"

"A minor mishap in Liberia, but it has been handled. The paperwork it generated though…"

* * *

><p>"I apologize for missing your call, Persephone alerted me the moment I had left that dreadful meeting."<p>

"No problem, I was just…well, I found a local wizarding village and I got a bit excited and I wanted to tell someone, so I called you…" Harry rambled. "Sounds a bit mad though now, saying it out loud. Sorry for calling and interrupting, I know you're busy."

"Tell me about this village." Mycroft said, sounding interested. "Did you get recognized?"

"No, it was great. Huh, I didn't really think about that. Do you thing I should go out in disguise like back home? The people were all really friendly though. Most spoke at least a little English and the food is amazing, I had lunch at this little restaurant near the entrance…"

* * *

><p>Harry shot straight up out of his bed, wand in hand, pointed right for the intruder chest. Mycroft's chest. "Mycroft? What?" Harry searched the room for in confusion. "I didn't miss my flight or something did I? Wait, my flight isn't for another four days. Why are you here in the middle of the night? What happened?<p>

Mycroft walked over to Harry's bed and sat down, he looked down trodden and world weary. "I need to enlist in your…help."

"Yea, I mean sure, right away. What is it? What brought you all the way out here for me?"

"I could not say anything over the phone."

"Even with as secure as your lines are?"

Mycroft nodded. "Sherlock is missing, Harry."

"How long?" Harry asked as they walked out onto the tarmac, towards the private airplane.

"Right after you left to come here." Mycroft responded, his voice strained.

Harry gave Mycroft an indignant look. "All those phone conversations and you never once thought to tell me to come back. I happen to care greatly for your brother and your just now telling me he is missing."

"Sherlock drops off the grid sometimes. A day here, two of three there. Never this long though."

"You two are going to fix this after we find him Mycroft. You're grown adults, acting like children does not become of either of you."

Mycroft grimaced as they boarded the plane and sat down, Harry sighed. "I'm not asking you to change Mycroft, the relationship you and your brother have, is just that, yours, but a little communication between the two of you is necessary. Especially, in the kind of work you both are in. Look, I apologize for snapping, yeah? Let's just focus on what we have to work with and finding your brother." Harry reached out and laid his hand on Mycroft's arm.

Mycroft met his concerned stare. "Intelligence reported that Sherlock was last seen two Mondays ago…"

* * *

><p>Landing in Heathrow nearly twenty hours later, Harry had endured more awkward silence than he thought he could stand for a lifetime. Mycroft didn't have much to go on, but thankfully Harry wouldn't need much. He knew one thing for sure, Sherlock wasn't dead, just lost. Mycroft, for all his stony faced stares and closed off attitude, was obviously distraught. It was painful for Harry to see.<p>

"Go home Mycroft. No listen," Harry continued as Mycroft looked to interrupt. "go home. I'm going to find him Mycroft and we both know your brother isn't the type to go to the hospital willingly. So, I'm going to bring him home. Go have a room made up and try not to worry too much. Trust me?"

* * *

><p>Harry's search brought him to an abandoned building that looked too much like the building Harry called home, for his comfort. Walking inside, the smell of urine and vomit assaulted his nose, this wasn't a place Harry had been to before or ever wanted to return to. Bodies, some alive, some not, laid out against the walls and corners. Old mattresses, ratted blankets, and garbage strewn about. As Harry ventured further into the building he finally spotted his mark. Sherlock was leaned up against a wall to Harry's right, eyes gazed over, needle between his fingers.<p>

Sherlock had relapsed.

* * *

><p>Carrying the consulting detective's far to light body into Mycroft's home was by far the hardest thing Harry had had to do in his life. He had had to sedate Sherlock to move him and now Sherlock slept soundly in his arms.<p>

"Put him here." Mycroft whispered, appearing at Harry's side and leading him into one of the bedrooms.

"I don't know what he took, but I had to place a sleeping charm on him, he's stronger than he looks."

Mycroft nodded and walked over to a side door, letting two more people in. "I've hired them to see to Sherlock. He will be seen to here."

"Good, that's good."

Mycroft took in Harry's weary form. "Perhaps you should get some rest."

"Yea, call me and let me know how he is. I'll go find Bishop and head home. Take care of him, Mycroft."

Mycroft nodded.

"Take care of yourself as well."

* * *

><p>Harry was glad to be home, he had stopped to check in on several people during his walk and had been welcomed back most enthusiastically. After having mended a broken bone, laceration, and put some salve on a couple of burns, Harry was ready to collapse into bed. Bishop had insisted on being carried the entire way home. Chattering and purring, making his displeasure at having been left for so long known.<p>

"How about we stop and see Willow tomorrow, I can tell you both about my trip." Harry murmured into Bishops fur, stretching out on his padded bit of stone flooring. "Come one you little beast, let's get some sleep."

Bishop seemed inclined to agree, slipping underneath the blanket and curling up along Harry's chest.

The next morning Harry woke up to an older woman stopping by for a burn. He would need to make some more salve, winter was always the worst in so many ways for people that lived on the streets, but burns were frequent and dangerous.

After helping the woman, Harry fed Bishop and packed up his bag. When Bishop finished eating they headed out to find Willow. When she wasn't in any of her usual places, Harry started asking around and found her in the last place he would have thought to look, a church.

"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes. How was your trip, dearie?" Willow remarked wrapping him up in a hug.

* * *

><p>Walking up the steps of Mycroft's home on Christmas Eve, Harry hummed a coral he had heard on the walk over. Arriving at the door, Harry contemplated knocking and had just decided to let himself in when the door was ripped open in front of him, startling Bishop.<p>

"Tell my brother to stop being insufferable, he listens to you."

"Hello to you to Sherlock, why yes I would love to come in, lovely weather we're having." Harry answered playfully. "You do know you're not wearing any clothes right?"

"Mycroft took my sheet." Sherlock answered as if it made all the sense in the world.

"Well, let me in before you catch cold and we'll see what we can do about your brother."

Sherlock watched Harry for a moment before stepping aside and allowing Harry and Bishop entrance. The foyer of Mycroft's home seemed a bit, disgruntled, more than likely reflecting the attitude of its master, you didn't need magic for your home to have a personality. Harry walked down the sparsely decorated halls, following the feeling of where Mycroft was located, Sherlock trailed him sullenly. Pushing open the door to Mycroft's study open with his paws Bishop slinked over to Mycroft's desk, before jumping up and sitting in the middle of Mycroft's paper work.

"Your beast is in my way."

"You Holmes' have such a way with greetings. Good evening Mycroft, I've brought you a gift and have come in search of Sherlock's sheet."

"My brother can either get dressed or not, it's no business of mine, but his sheet will not be returned to him a moment before."

Harry took a deep breath, leveling a look at Mycroft. "Bishop, why don't you go help Sherlock find his sheet?"

Bishop walked to the edge of the desk and stood on his back legs to lean against Harry. Bishop patted Harry's cheek with his paw and jumped down and walked out of the room. Sherlock followed with a curious look on his face.

"You really took his sheet?"

Mycroft pointedly did not answer.

"He looks to be doing better."

"Six weeks is hardly a testament of how well he is doing." Mycroft answered in a clipped tone.

"I'm starting to think I shouldn't have left, or maybe at least come back sooner." Harry responded, sitting down on the edge of Mycroft's desk.

"I am perfectly capable of caring for my own brother."

"You took his sheet, Mycroft. I'm not doubting your ability to take care of him. Just your sanity after having cared for him for six weeks straight on a daily basis. Your both so stubborn."

Mycroft sighed and rested his head in his hands. "It was awful."

"As bad as last time?"

"I don't know, last time I had him sent away."

"Do you know what happened? What triggered it? I don't speak with Sherlock often, but he did explain a bit to me about his deal with the Detective Inspector."

"A case."

"Not one from the Yard, right?"

"No, one he took on himself. Ended up too close to a drug lord, or so he says."

"You don't believe him?"

Mycroft lifted his head. "I believe that it is only a half truth."

"He does look much improved, Mycroft. Seems to be up to his usually antics. When he opened the door I flashed back to the first time I met him for a moment."

"You said you brought me a gift?"

"I'll let our conversation slide for the moment and yes, I brought you a plant." Harry grinned and passed the small plant to Mycroft.

"Aloe Vera."

"I thought it fitting."

Mycroft laughed and Harry thought it sounded magical.

* * *

><p>"I thought you said he knew about magic." Harry hissed. He had taken upon himself to decorate Mycroft's sitting and dining room and cook a Christmas Eve dinner to share with the Holmes'. Harry had finished the sitting room and was almost done with the dining room when Sherlock had wandered in, sans sheet, but instead dressed in his usual attire. Sherlock had glanced at the wreath Harry was attempting to affix to the wall, levitating it into spot with his wand, eyes widening before backing out of the room. A slam of the door could be heard originating from Mycroft's office a moment later.<p>

"It would appear that he deleted the information." Mycroft answered casually.

"So his following Bishop wasn't because he had recognized my familiar for what he is."

Mycroft made a noncommittal noise from the chair he had sat in to read the newspaper, the corner of his mouth raised just a hair.

"Well, I'm glad you find it amusing. He scared the right piss out of me when he came storming back in here. Firing questions left and right, my cat tucked up under one arm and a journal being waved around in the other."

"So, he found it then."

"I just hope he doesn't hurt him."

"I'm sure your cat will be just fine."

"I wasn't worried about my cat."

Mycroft lowered his paper and stared at Harry searchingly. "Perhaps, I should go and locate my brother."

Harry made a noncommittal noise in return.

* * *

><p>As they sat around the fire in Mycroft's sitting room, Harry pondered where he had been ten years ago and where he was now. The Holmes' were a right handful, no doubt about it, but sitting and listening to them bicker back and forth, it became apparent just how much they cared about each other. He had spent his Christmas ten years ago mourning his godfather, this Christmas was looking much brighter in comparison. Bishop was curled up on Mycroft's lap, Sherlock was wrapped up in a sheet, over his clothes, and Mycroft looked less stressed than he had in all time Harry had known him.<p>

Harry was glad he had struck out on his own and that his path had brought him here.

* * *

><p>On New Year's Eve, Harry extracted a promise from Bishop not to leave the house and proceeded to drag Mycroft and Sherlock out into the cold London night. He aparated them both to the alley he had spent every New Year's Eve in and promptly sat down on the ground, applying a warming charm below him. Mycroft and Sherlock both gave him looks that obviously questioned his sanity.<p>

"I've spent every New Year's Eve here, watching the fireworks. It's where Not-Cynthia found me last year. Don't look at me like that. You both shared your Christmas with me. Allow me to share my New Year's Eve with you." Harry pleaded. "It's just for a bit and it won't kill you."

Sherlock looked at Mycroft challengingly and sat down next to Harry. Mycroft joined them a moment later.

"Thank you." Harry whispered, lowering his head on to his knees. "There's a lot I wish I could share with you, but I can't, not right now. It wouldn't be safe, but this has been my tradition since I left and I thought that maybe since I can't share the rest of it with you right now, I could share this."

Harry missed the look Sherlock and Mycroft shared.


End file.
